Somewhere Other Than Here
by Somewhat Sporadic
Summary: During a new case, Lisbon gets herself into a rather scary situation. Will Jane be able to save her? Sorry, bad summary. Hopefully better inside! Rated T, just to be on the safe side. Slight character bashing. NOW COMPLETE! :D
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok…Right, this is my very first Fan Fiction that I have written, and I would just really quickly like to say a few words.**

**A massive thank you to Wldwmn, TeresaAmeliaJane and xxmentalistxxspooksxx for being such amazing people and for being so immensely nice to me! (This story is pretty much dedicated to them, I think :D)**

**Please, be nice, because as I said before, this is the very first time I've done this, and admittedly, I'm pretty nervous! Please feel free to leave me some constructive criticism, obviously, and reviews are VERY much appreciated! Anyone who reviews gets a virtual cookie! :D**

**I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I had a whale of a time, as it gave me a great excuse to make myself a cup of hot chocolate!**

**Ok, that's pretty much it. I apologise, I'll stop blabbering now! Oops! I almost forgot!**

**Disclaimer: I do not, and probably never will, own The Mentalist. All the characters belong to the genius that is Bruno Heller. If I did own it, believe me, Jisbon would've happened by now…**

Lisbon was thrown forward by the strong push of the hand on her shoulder. The momentum sent her crashing into the opposing wall, and she let out a strangled cry as the vice-like fist put an ungodly amount of pressure on her throat. She gasped for much needed oxygen as she was spun round. Their eyes bore into each other, hers trying to convey as little of the growing terror inside her as possible. An overwhelming urge to both cry and throw up washed over her as a vile stench of oil and alcohol wafted through the little space between them.

Unable to get a good glimpse of her attacker's face through his thick, black hood, she gagged and writhed in his grip in an attempt to escape. But he held fast, and no amount of struggling would loosen the monstrous hand around her neck. The holster at her waist was empty, having lost her gun in the earlier tussle against him in the house that stood, old and crumbling, just a few feet above their heads. The coldness of the wall spread through her flimsy dark green jacket and ran icy fingers down her back. Her small form trembled from the exertion of trying to prevent her airways being well and truly crushed, and the unbearable coldness that the freezer room propelled into the atmosphere.

"J…J…Ja-ne…" she gasped, barely loud enough for herself to hear.

"What's that? Crying for lover boy, are we?" he spat harshly in her face.

Just as she began to feel immensely light headed, the pressure ceased and she was flung roughly to the floor. Heavy boots made contact with her stomach. Small shards of shattered glass were showered on her head as a bottle smashed against the wall. Her heart banged loudly on the inside of her chest and the darkness enveloped her.

Patrick Jane walked through the barren hallways of the old mansion. Every now and then, the curtains of moonlight shining through the broken windows would cast eerie and twisted replicas of him onto the opposite wall. His everyday brown leather shoes made contact with the dusty, faded rug that ran the length of the corridor with a muffled thudding sound. The pale purple wall paper could only be described as anaemic, all the vibrant colours lost in time. The ripped velvet curtains had all the life leeched out of them after years in the hot Californian sun. Spiders and rats had long since taken refuge in the abandoned home's creaky, but still strangely welcoming arms. In fact, the general feel of the place was so cliché that Patrick could imagine the suits of armour watching his every move from a dark corner of the room, and the intimidating eyes adorned in the portraits moving to examine him. He couldn't help the shiver that coursed through his body at that precise moment. He hated that feeling of being watched…

Peering into each of the rooms with interest, he took in every detail with his eagle-like eyes. Only the odd lonesome chair would catch his attention. Not anything suspicious. "Hmm…" He let out an almost irritated sound and nudged the corner of a small brown crate with the tip of his shoe. Suddenly, from somewhere below his feet, he heard an almighty bang and then some shuffling noises. At first, he thought it could've been Lisbon scouring the ground floor for more details into the recent murder.

A fifty-something year old pensioner, found dead in his home three days ago, with nothing but a small knife in his back to go on. Inevitably, the CBI had been summoned yet again to 'uncover the killer'. Oh, how reliant people were on the CBI…If only they knew what went on behind the scenes. That their beloved heroes were in fact so imperfect in their own right. Cho had been in Juvenile for goodness knows how long when he was younger. The man had a criminal record! Rigsby and Van Pelt were seemingly normal and at peace with themselves on the outside, but both had been through a hard childhood. Rigsby's abusive father had left a number of incurable scars in his life, and Van Pelt had suffered through a variety of traumas that she evidently did not care to discuss.

Then there was Teresa Lisbon. So hard and selfless on the outside, but yet inside, she was warm and compassionate and had a great deal of self-pride that she rarely showed. Abused by her alcoholic father and left to fend for herself and her three brothers when her mother died, she was undeniably still haunted by her past. Inside that shell that she had built herself years prior to now, there was a fragile young girl, bruised, battered and frightened that one day someone would come and destroy her again. Well, he'd be damned if he let that happen.

The pair of them had been sent to the last place of the victim's reported appearance, and they discovered this. An old, run down, mould-infested hole of nothingness. Not even a scrap of paper to trace a name from. Several minutes into their exploration, Lisbon had suggested that they split up, as you do. Jane had taken the upper levels and Lisbon, the lower levels.

The sudden noise rang through his ear as Jane remained quiet, not daring to move in case he had been mistaken, and the noise he heard was in fact the murderer making a surprise appearance. As he stood there, a statue in the shadows, his mind went into overdrive. It was just then, that he realised: he was on the ground floor. Lisbon was on the next floor down from him. So that meant that Lisbon was in the basement and freezer room. He knew for a fact from a quick scan over when they first arrived, that there was absolutely no heavy equipment in that room. Lisbon was in no way strong enough to make a loud noise like that just by simply hammering on the wall. It took only a matter of seconds for his mind to put all the pieces together. His cerulean eyes widened in horror and his feet were suddenly pounding towards the basement steps. Lisbon was down in the cold basement. And she was not alone…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow…I honestly can't believe how nice the reviews I got for this are! I got so excited when I logged onto my email account and saw loads of alerts for reviews and favourites…THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO READ THE LAST CHAPTER! Hopefully, the next chapter will start to have a bit more Jisbon in it, as I am a hopeless romantic and dedicated Jisbon shipper at heart! :D Many, many, many thanks to xxmentalistxxspooksxx yet again for being sooo supportive and for being a fantastic new friend. (A virtual hug to you, lol!)**

**Phew…Ok, without further ado, here is the next chapter. Fuelled with a nice bit of chocolate cake (Yummeh! :D) and a very optimistic feeling about this story, here I go…**

**Disclaimer: As I said before, I in no way own The Mentalist or any of the characters in it. Even if I had a small chance of it happening, it won't be very soon, as my birthday has just gone and Christmas is still months away… :(**

Jane's heart rate went wild as he sprinted along the labyrinth of corridors. Every turn he made, there always seemed to be more endless mildew covered walls spread tauntingly before him. He panted heavily as the panic in his chest began to consume his body. By the time he had reached the end of the hall, his hands were shaking violently and his legs felt like jelly.

On and on into the inky, black darkness of the house he went, having totally forgotten the way he came. Finally, after what felt like forever, his shoes came into contact with solid marble instead of dull, spongy velvet. Looking up, he saw the front entrance, a grand, old, oak door that looked too heavy to move. Searching frantically around the room, he spotted a small door in the corner. It sat inconspicuously in the shadows, obviously the way to the basement. He ran over to it, readying his voice to shout Lisbon's name, when out of nowhere, the door swung open with a blood curdling screech and a tall burly man stepped out into the dim light.

Patrick immediately sprang into action, leaping sideways to conceal himself behind an old mahogany bookshelf. The man wore dirty clothes, caked in mud evidently from the surrounding woods. His Steel tipped boots hinted that he was some sort of factory worker that required a large amount of safety equipment. His face was veiled by a black hood, but a few tufts of tousled, brown hair stuck through some of the holes that had been worn into it. Through two tiny peep holes, Patrick saw the man's eyes. Black and thoroughly evil-looking, they were killer's eyes. He should know. Many times before now, Jane had seen that exact same posture and look of uncontrollable anger, majorly directed inwardly. That same slight look of guilt, but undeniable rage sent fear through every bone in his body. Big, broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms cast an eerily intimidating shadow over Jane as he cowered in silence in the tangible wrath of this unknown person.

He staggered across the room towards the front door and threw it open, the heavy boots making loud echoing noises reverberate through the house. Silvery moonlight flooded the room instantly. Reaching a hand up, the assailant ripped off his hood and grunted in annoyance. Jane took in the man's appearance, committing it to memory for future reference. Then, the door was slammed shut again, and Jane was once more plunged into darkness.

He took a few seconds to calm down, and then he was off again. He pounded down the steps, slipping once or twice on the accumulating ice that had formed on the floor.

The feeling was almost instant. His body was struck by unstoppable shivers that quickly changed into convulsions. His breath came out in thick clouds in the cold and his jacket suddenly seemed completely ineffective.

"Lisbon? Are you here?" he whispered loudly. "Lisbon?" The steady hum of the generator supplying the coldness rang in his ears. "Lisbon?" he said louder, hoping he would get an answer. But it didn't come.

Instead, as he rounded the corner, his heart dropped right down to his feet and he felt a massive wave of nausea crash down on him. Teresa Lisbon was there all right. But she was curled up in the corner, her hair a messy dark, brown tangle resting limply against her back. Her eyes were shut and her clothes were dotted with blood. Bruises were forming around her pale neck and there was a pained expression etched into her features.

"Teresa!" he shouted. His voice wobbled as he knelt down next to her and gently pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Lisbon…" The first tear slowly trickled down his face, but he scrubbed it away angrily and ripped off his jacket to wrap it around her frail shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around her small body and hugged her close, placing one finger against her neck where he would find her pulse. She was cold and lifeless and he feared the worst until he felt a tiny bit of movement underneath his fingertips. Jane breathed a sigh of relief, but his shimmer of hope was short lived when he heard a booming voice behind him.

**DUN DUN DUNN! Sorry about another cliff hanger…I thought that this would be a good place to stop for now. I will update VERY soon, don't worry about that! (I love this job! XD) Much love to anyone who reviews! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: SHOOP DA WHOOP! Had an epic at school today! COMMUNITY DAY! It was so funny…I got to see one of the teachers get sponged. It was hilarious.**

**Anyways, here is the next chapter. I'm feeling very confident now, since I have received so many lovely and encouraging reviews. Thank you! XD**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not yet. It's top of my wish list, but still nothing. Nada. Nein. Zero. You get meh?**

Jane's heart plummeted in his chest as he spun round to reveal the attacker himself, back in the house with them. Pulling Lisbon even closer to himself, Jane shrank back into the corner as far as he could possibly get from those piercing eyes. Fists clenched, teeth bared and muscles tensed, he was NOT happy in the least.

Taking in a deep breath, Patrick held up his head and tried to appear as nonchalant about the situation as he was able in his petrified state.

"What the hell have you done to her?" Jane screeched. Surprisingly, the protective body language and defiant feelings came easily to him. The man just scowled back and took a small, menacing step forwards. "Well? Who are you?" he pressed, feeling more and more powerless as the shadow grew larger. In his arms, Lisbon suddenly stirred gently, and her emerald eyes fluttered open. Patrick's heart skipped a beat as the glare of the light bouncing off the ice made her look so ethereally and incredibly beautiful, even in her sorry state. "J…Jane? Wh…what's…going on?" she asked, her eyes filling with panic as she caught sight of the horrifyingly familiar monster in the room with them.

"It's OK, Lisbon. Just…keep calm." '_Pft! Yeah, easy for you to say!' _piped up the voice in his head. Teresa whimpered in agony and she clutched her neck, trying to relieve the pain. Jane stroked her cheek with his thumb and gazed deep into her eyes. "Trust me. Please." Lisbon stared back and after a few seconds, nodded weakly. Jane lifted his head to glare at him. Every ounce of hatred and anger in his body was put into that stare in hopes of scaring him away to avoid a confrontation. Following what had obviously happened before; this man was capable of anything, really.

In his mind, Jane started to formulate a plan. One that would hopefully get them both out alive without starting a fight. That really wasn't one of Jane's strong points! The small voice of his subconscious went haywire, seeking the answer in amongst all the jumbled up thoughts in Jane's head.

_Survey the room. Is there anything that you can use as a means of escape? A few empty Glass bottles…One crate…Small length of rope…Wait, has Lisbon still got her handcuffs? Yes. She has. Is the door still open? Not Sure. Hopefully, because we may need to run. His body language…Look for a moment when he lets his guard down. His eyes…Hang on, they look strange. Almost like he can't focus on one thing for too long…Whoa, is he DRUNK? Perfect! That could work! Ok, what to do…What to do…What to do…Got it. Eureka!_

"Lisbon." He whispered urgently. Her eyes flickered to his face and she sat up and leant against his shoulder for support. "Listen. I have an idea. I need your help. Can you stand up, do you think?"

She glanced down at her feet and shook off the small fragments of glass that remained embedded in her boots. Nodding tentatively, she slowly got to her feet, aided by Jane who also stood up. He reached out and gripped her hand. He leant in to whisper in her ear discreetly. His warm breath made her cold cheek tingle from the sudden close contact. She blinked to try and compose herself. "Ok. What I'm going to do is this. I'm going to provoke him and get him to focus his attention on me. I will try to lead him over to the right hand wall so that you can get behind him without him seeing you. Then, I want you to get one of those bottles on that shelf over there and smash it on his head. Try and knock him unconscious. Then we'll go from there." He spoke quickly and urgently and she nodded in agreement.

But then her face was a picture of worry. "Jane, I don't want you to get hurt like I was. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I let you do this and then he did something to you like he did me…" Her heart broke slightly at the mere thought of losing Patrick. An unfamiliar feeling was clouding her thoughts, and she couldn't think straight. Her mind was instantaneously turned to mush as she contemplated losing him. Her best friend. The one that she realised had always been there for her, even if he was the world's biggest pain in the ass at times. But most importantly, the only person left in the world that she knew she loved.

The thought pulled her up short. _Loved…_ All she could manage was a single tear. She let it roll down her pale cheek, down to her chin and then it dripped down to the cold floor. Jane looked concerned and then gently wiped her face with his thumb. When their skin came into contact, she felt a spark cross between them. _I'm in love with Patrick Jane…_

The attacker was bored. Not to mention desperate. Desperate to kill again…And he had set his sights on Teresa Lisbon. He had let them have their little moment. His alcohol-infected brain said to attack. Now. He let out an almighty roar that resembled a rabid animal and he lunged forward. Lisbon let out a scream and Jane instinctively protected her body with his. They simultaneously dodged out of his grasp and then it was all go. Jane ran to the right and Lisbon to the left. Jane hollered and shouted obscenities at him, giving him every reason to leave Lisbon alone and change his target. When words seemed to be ineffective, Jane resorted to physical tactics. He hammered on his back and scratched at his bare arms.

With lightning speed, the man sprung forward and clamped his hand around Jane's neck. Lisbon screeched in fear for him, as his lips started to turn blue. He mind clouded over. He heart beat went insane and her breathing stopped entirely. Her muscles became useless. Jane was there in front of here, about to be choked to death. He was suffering because of her and yet she couldn't move.

_NO! NO, NO, NO! Not Jane! Not now. Not here…Why didn't I come here alone? Why did I make him…No, LET him come with me? Please, God…Please let this all just turn out to be a nasty dream. Please let Patrick be somewhere else…Anywhere. Just somewhere other than here…There was something I was meant to do…something…I need to do SOMETHING! Teresa you fool, SNAP OUT OF IT! There was…he told me to…BOTTLES! The bottles!_

Suddenly, her muscles sprang back to life. She jolted round and grabbed a filthy green glass bottle and gripped it hard with both hands. She turned. She raised her arms. She braced herself, and then she brought it down.

A loud smash split through the eerie silence. He howled in pain and slumped to the floor. Jane gasped as the oxygen once again filled his lungs. Lisbon stood in amongst the broken glass, her hands cut from the bottle as it smashed into a thousand pieces. She looked at Patrick, his face full of terror. Without thinking, she ran towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulling him into a crushing hug, she let the tears fall. Jane returned the embrace without hesitation. As if by some unspoken agreement, Lisbon pulled her handcuffs out of the small pouch allocated on her belt and handed them to Jane. He bent down and locked one cuff around the assailant's wrist and the other to a pole that stretched across the whole of the far wall.

Shoving the door open, they grabbed each other's hand and then they ran.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Alright first of, I sincerely apologise that it's taken me a long time to update. I've been really busy these last couple of days…Now that I'm well and truly settling into the summer holidays, I will update more regularly again. However in a few weeks' time I won't be able to update for more than 3 weeks as I'm going away on holiday. YAY! :D Because of that, I'm going to use all of my free time to update any on-going stories that I might start and to create new ones. It might help me get through my three weeks away from FF…it's gonna kill me…**

**Ok, anyways, this is gonna be the last chapter, I think. I plan on starting a new story soon though, as I said before. I currently have no ideas for a starting point, so any suggestions would be greatly appreciated and all shall be taken into consideration. You guys have all been so nice to me during the creation of this story; I am literally obsessed with FanFiction at the moment. XD**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Still not mine. :)**

Lisbon held onto Jane's hand for dear life. She slipped on the ice of the freezer room and stumbled a few times. Each time, she was pulled easily back to her feet by the sturdy hands around hers. He led her up the stairs of the basement, across the lobby, out the front door (which surprisingly opened without much difficulty, despite its heavy appearance) and onto the damp lawn outside. Still, they kept on running, on and on, deep into the forest around the house.

"Why…did I… have to… park so far… away…" panted Lisbon. Her feet kept snagging on loose roots in the ground, the skeletal fingers of the trees ripping at her jacket leaving claw marks on her pale skin. Jane was going strong, keeping up a steady pace just ahead of her, his breathing even, and not breaking a sweat. "We haven't been running for that long Lisbon. Come on!" he urged gently, tugging lightly on her icy hand.

But Teresa couldn't go any faster. The heeled boots she was wearing weren't helping at all. The pain in her head was slowly growing into the usual tension headache she got under stress. "Jane, just please…Slow down a little…Why are we… running anyway? It's not… as if he's… going to come…after us…is he?" She pleaded. He slowed a little, but continued to head on into the endless world of blackness. The small roots turned into large, broken branches, the crows overhead screamed into the night, taunting the lost couple who had ventured too deep into an inescapable forest like so many before them.

It was like a horror movie. Again, so cliché, yet so unnervingly real and lifelike. What always happens next? There's always another problem to solve, some trap to avoid or a monster to defeat. Like a hand reaching out of the clay-like earth, clawing at your feet. When you least expect it. They get closer and closer and closer…Reaching further and further, ready to pull you down to the point of no return…

Lisbon let out a scream. She fell to the floor with a sickening thud as she felt something wrap round her ankles. She yelped and violently kicked out, trying to free herself. Jane felt the pull of her body weight as she tumbled to the floor. He almost fell down after her, but planted his palm into the trunk of a nearby tree and steadied himself. He gaped down at her worriedly for a second and then let out a small chuckle as she tried, but failed, to get free of the thick ivy wound around a fallen branch. He knelt down and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she rubbed her head in agitation. He chuckled again. _Ah, the tension headache returns…_

The tiny gaps in the canopy of leaves above their head let through small spotlights of silvery moonlight on them. Looking at Jane's face made her feel a million times better. His warm smile always made her heart flutter and her eyes shine with happiness. That's why only really Jane saw how beautifully emerald-like her eyes could truly be: because he was the only reason they were so.

Jane knelt down on the marshy ground beside her and motioned for her to keep still. Then, he went to work on the thick vines with his strong fingers, tearing them away from her feet. She watched on in admiration as he untangled them with ease. When he was finished, he looked at her and smirked, then stood up and held out his hand.

Lisbon couldn't help the small smile that graced her features. Taking his hand in hers, she heaved herself up and brushed herself down. It was only when she looked up from her shoes that she noticed how close they were.

"Umm…Sorry…" she mumbled, taking an awkward step back. But she didn't get very far. Jane reached out and wrapped his arms around her small waist, pulling her into a hug. Blinking in both surprise and delight, she returned the hug and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. Jane twirled the end of her gorgeous dark hair around is finger and held her close, breathing in her unmistakable cinnamon scent. They remained there for a while, neither one wanting to let go.

Then, without thinking, Jane pulled back, placed one hand on either of her cheeks and leant forward to brush his lips against hers. He half expected her to pull away, punch him in the face and then run off to the safety of her car. But she didn't. Instead, he felt her lips moving against his and her arms wrapping around his neck.

Never in all her life had Teresa Lisbon expected to ever feel this way about someone. Never had she though that she would ever be loved in return. Especially by someone so kind and seemingly perfect as Patrick Jane. Many times she had glanced over to his leather brown couch and seen that adorable face of his as he pretended to sleep. He seemed so peaceful and calm on the outside, but she knew that was just a mask he permanently wore. Really, he was a jumble of inner turmoil, self-hatred and the want for revenge. Her heart broke to think of all the pain this man had gone through.

At this precise moment though, as she stood in his arms, she didn't feel any of those bitter emotions in their kiss. His strong body against hers made her feel more wanted than she had in a long time. As their fingers twined with each other, all of the day's events melted into nothingness. At the moment, her job didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was with Patrick Jane.

There was nowhere else she'd rather be.


End file.
